Thief: A dark reverse harem romance (Sterling Falls Book 1), page 15
He raises an eyebrow, and I’m not sure how the cocky gesture can become an order. But both of the bikers remove their helmets.
I don’t recognize either one. The first, the one who had been talking to Wolfe, has a bald head and tattoos up to his jaw. The other looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. He’s younger, with short dark hair and much fewer tattoos than his partner.
Jace steps in closer to the older man, listening as he talks. I’m practically twisted in half to see out the back window, but it doesn’t help me hear. And my lipreading skills are seriously lacking.
Wolfe still seems on edge, only letting out that energy now that Jace is here. Two against two seems like better odds, anyway. Wolfe paces back and forth, then finally settles for a wide stance in front of the car. I wonder where Apollo is. If they were together doing illegal shit. Scaring people into submission. Beating up gangsters. My imagination could keep spiraling like this, on and on with endless possibilities.
But then, Jace points to the road.
The two intruders leave, and I hurry to face forward again. On top of everything, I don’t want to appear to have been spying. I hit the unlock button for the doors.
It isn’t Wolfe who yanks my door open, though, but Jace. He leans into my space, boxing me in. “What is it about you that always seems to attract trouble?”
I scoff. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re chaos.”
“Seriously? I’ve done nothing but try to survive.” My brows draw together. “And don’t get me started on that.”
He sneers. “It keeps biting you in the ass.”
My mouth drops open. “What? How?”
“There’s this little thing called fine print.” He shakes his head. “You’re un-fucking-believable. Did you read the contract you signed? Or did he just flip to the last page and point to the bottom line?”
I lean back and cross my arms. My temper is rising—and I’ve come to the sudden realization that Jace doesn’t scare me as much as he probably should. After all, he’s gone out of his way to keep me safe. That has to count for something, right?
Maybe not.
This bluster on his part only serves to rile me up. I scowl at him. “Anything that happened after you declared me invisible isn’t my fault. What the hell did you expect? You ruined my life.”
Same song, new day.
“You should’ve left. Ran home to Mommy and Daddy and admitted that Sterling Falls chewed you up and spit you out. Because clearly you’re too dumb to stay on the nice side of the city.” His expression isn’t angry, just annoyed. Definitely not remorseful.
“You should just take that stick out of your ass,” I retort, straightening in my seat. “It might make you less of a miserable piece of wet toilet paper.”
He pushes off the car and storms away, muttering under his breath.
And I sit there and watch him go, feeling… surprisingly good. Like I won a round against Jace, and it means something.
In reality, it probably means I’m definitely getting locked in my room tonight.
“Well, that was fun,” Wolfe drawls. “Never heard that insult before.”
I jump. The driver’s door is open, and he stands in the opening. His gun is gone, his hands empty.
“Fun,” I echo.
“Yeah.” He grabs the boxed food, plus another white box from the backseat, and motions for me to get out of the car. “Like a boxing match, except you actually sort of held your own.”
We go in the front door, and it closes with a heavy thunk behind us. He locks it, and his brows furrow when I glance from it to his face.
“So… are you not going to tell me who they are? Except, according to Jace, their arrival is my fault. Because Kronos has…” A contract. That I signed. Like an idiot.
My stomach flips. I hate to admit that Jace is right, and I should’ve read the fine print. It was long, and I was confident that I’d get a job. Pay it back, plus that insane interest. It seemed reasonable. He pointed to the important parts—the timeframe, the interest that would accrue. How to make payments.
Wolfe doesn’t say anything.
I stop him just before we reach the kitchen. “Wolfe. Please.”
He shrugs and meets my gaze. “You signed a contract that literally put your life on the line, Kora. You’ve defaulted on the loan—two months without payment, which means he’s going to collect in other ways.”
“My… flesh.” I look down at my arms, struck dumb. It was going that way, anyway, wasn’t it? His stupid fucking brand on my skin for the world to see. Except… the way Wolfe is looking at me makes it seem like it’s a lot worse than that.
Kronos said this wasn’t over, and I didn’t believe him.
“Right,” he says slowly. “In some cases, it binds people to the Titans for good. They own homes, businesses, people. Other times, they sell them off to make the payment back.”
What’s this worth? Your life?
I shiver.
“Yeah. Think of the businessmen who get into a hole and can’t find their way out. The powerful people of Sterling Falls who get caught up in his web. And then he owns them like that.” Wolfe snaps his fingers to emphasis his point, then turns away. “Kronos has decided you’re not worth it.”
I gulp and follow after him. He has me hooked, now. I’m greedy to know what doom lies in my future, no matter how horrifying. “What does that mean?”
“He’s going to sell you to the highest bidder.”
Chapter Thirteen
While I have parents, there’s always been that pressing otherness to me. Strangers used to point out that I looked nothing like them. Teachers were surprised when the dark-haired, tan-skinned couple came to pick up the pale redheaded child. Friends knew, obviously, as did my doctor. But there was always a split second of curiosity around my family.
Rightly so, I suppose.
I love them, but I don’t fit.
They’re my parents, but I have biological parents out in the world somewhere.
Existing without me.
And because of that—maybe to spite it, too—I developed some unhealthy coping methods. Repressing my emotions. Sleeping too little or too much, which usually dissolves into insomnia. Picking at my nails until they bleed.
After the first night of being locked away, my door isn’t locked again. I sit on my bed and wait, staring anxiously at it and straining to hear the scrape of a deadbolt. I stay up so late, the sun creeps in through my window.
On the third night, I’m restless. There’s only so much pacing a girl can do, and I’m filled with toxic energy. I didn’t do much today—Wolfe was the only one here, and he seemed content to let me do nothing. I studied, I stuck to my room. He brought up lunch, and then dinner. Takeout boxes. Both times he seemed distracted, so I let it go.
Tomorrow, I should probably go back to class. I’ve put it off for too long, and I can’t just stay here forever. I finished my homework earlier. And now, the house is silent.
I open my door and step into the dark hallway. My socks lessen the noise of my footsteps as I tiptoe toward the stairs. I haven’t ventured up to the third floor, and I’m not sure I want to tackle that in the dead of night.
Instead, I head downstairs. There’s apparently a gym somewhere. I know there’s more to it than just the rooms I’ve seen in passing, and it seems safer to explore the first floor.
I feel like a thief, sneaking around and peeking into rooms. I collect them in my mind, making a mental map of the place. There’s another office, separate from the one connected to the den. The double doors closed when I find it. Inside, it’s empty except a desk shoved in the corner and boxes on the floor. I find a movie room. A game room, with a pool table front and center, is closest to the garage. It might even share a wall with it.
So, I go in the other direction. Past the kitchen and the two-level den with the huge television. There’s a door that opens into a staircase leading to the basement, and I’d bet the gym is down there. I peek into the den, contemplating climbing the spiral staircase to see what sort of reading they have upstairs.
Ultimately, I keep moving.
I pause when I come upon a music room. Backlit by moonlight, a baby grand piano sits in the corner. I flick the light on, and the polished black paint gleams. My chest tightens at the sight of it, and the rest of the room. I check behind me, not sure why I feel guilty, and step inside. There are a few guitars hanging on the wall, a mix of acoustic and electric. A few amps are tucked under them, cords wrapped tightly on top.
There are fabric panels on the walls between the instruments, and square panels on the ceiling, too. Sound absorption.
My instrument is a cello, although I haven’t played in months. I almost brought it with me to Sterling Falls, but I’m immensely glad I didn’t. I don’t know if I would’ve had the courage to keep it when everything else was falling apart.
Still, I did study piano for a few years. Nothing impressive—just another thing I added to my résumé for college. My high school had free lessons before first period, and I dragged my butt in to learn the basics.
I flip the cover off the keys and drag the bench out, appreciating the ivory. The old piano I learned on had a few cracked and yellowing keys, the edges worn from countless students.
This feels like it hasn’t been played much at all.
The keys are smooth and white, the black ones shining under the low lights.
I press the middle C with my index finger, and the tone is crystal clear. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I nod to myself and reopen and place my hands on it. I have a vague recollection of pieces I learned, and one surfaces. I fumble my way through it once, pausing at the end.
Close, but not good enough.
I play it again. Fewer mistakes, but too slow.
Again.
Muscle memory comes back, and tears burn the backs of my eyes. Before I know it, I’m playing this piece from years ago decently well, but I’m silently crying. I couldn’t even tell you why—just that there’s a heavy grief in my chest that is desperate to come out.
I linger on the last notes, then wipe under my eyes.
“Interesting interpretation.”
I nearly jump out of my skin.
Jace stands in the doorway. He has a gun strapped to a visible holster at his hip, one of the few times I’ve seen them wear it that way, over black canvas pants. A white long-sleeve shirt clings to his muscles. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, then steps into the music room. The door swings shut silently behind him, and it feels warmer in here from his presence.
“I don’t usually play the piano.” I have to defend myself against him, although it shouldn’t matter.
“What do you usually play?”
“The cello.”
He nods once, casting a glance around. “We don’t have any cellos lying around, unfortunately.”
“Pity.”
He eyes me, then comes over and leans on the body of the piano. “Yes, I think it is.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Play something else. Don’t let me stop you.”
A ragged sigh slips past my lips. “I should go to bed.”
He shakes his head, then moves and sits beside me on the bench. I scoot over, giving him room, and his body presses into mine. From knee to hip. And our upper arms. He’s not just warm, he’s burning hot. And I seem frozen by comparison.
“Do you play?” I can’t help the surprise that colors my tone.
“Nope.” He taps one of the lower black keys, frowning at the sound.
There’s a speck of blood on his sleeve, near his wrist. “Did you do something dangerous?”
“Most of the shit we do is dangerous.” He pushes his sleeves up, revealing the tattoos on the backs of his hands and racing up his forearms. A compass stands out, but I force my gaze away before I analyze the rest of them. The letters on his knuckles, the black and gray ink on his wrists and forearms. The spot of blood is obscured now, too.
He presses the middle C. It’s always struck me as a warm note, and grounding in its own way. I fight the urge to close my eyes and let it resonate in my chest, like I used to do with the cello. A single note could pull me out of the clouds and plant me back in my body.
“Play something.” His order is quiet and unyielding.
Tonight, I don’t want to argue. Except, there are no other pieces up my sleeve—not for the piano, anyway. So I stumble my way through the same one again. All I can think about is where he’s touching me. At some point, I give up. My fingers still.
“I’m better on the cello,” I admit softly.
“Do you miss it?” He taps another key at random.
“Sometimes, when I’m alone and feel a hollowness in my chest, I do.” I clear my throat, unexpectedly emotional over an instrument… weird. But isn’t that why I was drawn here in the middle of the night? And especially right now, when I feel exactly as I described: alone. Hollow. “I played in a few recitals in high school. And there’s this hush that comes over the audience after they welcome you to the stage, and it’s just you and your instrument and your heartbeat. And everyone there is just… behind the spotlight. Until the last note. I miss that. The purposeful quiet before something beautiful.”
He doesn’t say anything.
And I… I didn’t mean to say all of that. Embarrassment rushes through me, and I turn away. I stand and move around the piano, needing to give myself some space to breathe.
He plays another note, then a few in succession.
I tip my head, because it’s familiar. But before I can ask, he closes the lid and rises, as well.
“It’s late.”
I nod once, but I don’t feel tired. I’m wired, my eyes like sandpaper. I’ll crash soon. Maybe tomorrow. But every time I close my eyes, I see Kronos and his branding iron. Or the man he shot falling over backward.
He watches me for a long moment, then sighs. “I’m not good at this shit, okay?”
I narrow my eyes. “What shit?”
“The whole…” He waves his hand at me. “You seem upset.”
I laugh. “Really, Jace? Upset? I feel…” I shake my head and tap my chest. “No feelings in here.”
“That’s the problem.” His gaze turns speculative. “Nightmares?”
“When I sleep.”
“Insomnia?”
I nod.
“Jumpy?”
“That’s not new.”
He grunts. “Fair enough, after that asshole ex of yours. Okay, come on.”
“I didn’t tell you about him.” I stare at him. “How did you find out about Parker?”
He doesn’t look back when he strides out of the music room. My curiosity gets the better of me, though, and I follow. Down the hall, back up the stairs. I sort of expected him to give me warm milk and tell me to count sheep.
Instead, he pauses outside my room.
I pause along with him, my abdomen cramping painfully. “You’re going to lock me in?”
He shrugs. “Not tonight. Maybe if you’re a pain in the ass some other time, I’ll reconsider.”
My shoulders are stiff when I go into the room in front of him. My bed is pristine, tight sheets and wrinkle-free duvet. I unpacked, grudgingly over the last few days, and everything else tucked away. Out of sight.
It doesn’t look like my room. It’s just a room I happen to sleep in. A closet my clothes happen to be hanging in.
“Lie down.”
His tone leaves no room for arguments… and I’ve got to admit, I want to know what he’s thinking. So I pull back the covers and climb in, lowering myself until I’m fully horizontal. I don’t know what the problem is when I try to sleep, but I just can’t do it. My eyes continuously spring open after a few seconds in the darkness, until I give up.
Jace seems out of place in here. In my green room with floral accents. My bookshelves are bare, minus the few notebooks I’ve set out from classes, and the fireplace remains unlit.
He drags the curtains across the windows, rolls the wand on the blinds to flip them up instead of down, then kicks off his shoes. He takes off the holster, too, and sets it, gun still tucked inside, on my nightstand.
I swallow. “What are you doing?”
He sighs and sits beside me. Not under the blankets. He crosses his ankles and leans back against the headboard, getting situated with a pillow at his back, then leans over and turns off the light.
We’re immediately entombed in darkness.
“I’ll keep watch,” he says a moment later. There’s another pause, longer. “It’s okay to sleep, Kora. I’ll keep the nightmares away.”
I roll onto my side, away from him. I don’t know if I trust it—or him—but I close my eyes. And I don’t have the heart to tell him that nothing and no one can stop my nightmares.
I’ve been trying for years.
“What do you dream about?” The question comes out before I can stop it. It’s not the only thing I want to ask him. In fact, it’s the last thing I should be asking. I want to know what Wolfe told him about my ex, or my past. I want to know what he was doing that got blood on his sleeve. But instinct tells me he won’t answer any of those questions right now.
He doesn’t trust me, either.
He’s quiet. Just his steady breathing, and the heat of his body behind mine. “My parents, sometimes.”
“What about them?”
“They’re dead.” He sighs. “And when I dream, I see my mother as she was. And I see my father as he is. Rotting in the earth.”
I don’t know how to respond to that.
His hand lands on my arm, and I freeze. But he doesn’t do anything else. His thumb just rubs down my skin, his fingers immobile on my biceps.
“I tried to save you from Kronos, but he refused. For a myriad of reasons, and none of them are important right now. He wants you back in his possession to sell you and get his investment back. With interest, knowing him. His pockets often dictate the decisions he makes.” He goes quiet. “But we’ll figure it out.”
